


Os Lunatum

by for_t2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bone Fragments, Dementor Magic, Enemies to Rivals, F/F, Family, Hopeful Ending, Last Wills and Testaments, Loneliness, Mild Blood, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Resurrection, Young Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Helping to rebuild Hogwarts kept Hermione busy enough before Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the ruins. Before Hermione learned she had been named in Bellatrix Lestrange's will
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 135





	Os Lunatum

Hogwarts was a castle of many secrets, and even the destruction of the war couldn't uncover them all. As exhilaratingly and fascinatingly alive as it made the school, it also made it unnervingly difficult to try and figure out how to rebuild it.

For what felt like the seventh-hundredth time in the last couple days alone, Hermione had picked her way through another pile of rubble to find yet another stone with the strangest markings engraved on it. At first glance, they resembled runes, but not in any runic language she was able to recognise. Nor did they seem to fit in any pattern she could make sense of.

Which left Hermione in a difficult position.

The markings may have just been the random scribbles of student graffiti, at which point it didn't really matter what she did with the stones. But if they were historically significant graffiti, or graffiti in a lost language... Or what if they were magic runes which held up spells essential to the castle's protection? Or if putting them back together in the wrong order unleashed some ancient danger? Or if they were a curse! Or... Or... 

If it was any consolation, at least Hermione wasn't up in the head office arguing about who should replace Snape.

McGonagall had been named interim headmistress, but she was adamant that she was too old and too exhausted to deal with that on a permanent basis. Slughorn, of course, was angling for the position, but, well, there was the minor matter of the House of Slytherin's trustworthiness. Binns was too boring, Flitwick too small, Hagrid too giant, Trelawney too... Trelawney. Madam Hooch had emerged as a compromise candidate, but she had rolled her eyes and muttered about the position being cursed. There had even been talk of inviting someone from outside the country, but that discussion got interrupted each time by Peeves insisting that he was the perfect outsider candidate and delighted enough to throw around a few leftover Weasley Wheezes to prove his point.

Frankly, if it was up to Hermione, she'd give the position to the house elves and let Wizarding Society deal with wearing the other shoe for once. But every attempt to get involved in the arguments either left her with a headache or ended with the question of "what would Potter want?" Eventually, she just learned find ways to avoid getting dragged back in.

The only problem was that she didn't really have anywhere else to go. As long as there were still Death Eaters out there, she didn't dare risk trying to track down her parents, and there weren't many families who dared keep their kids at Hogwarts (or even in the country) until everything was rebuilt with a bureaucratic stamp of approval.

Hell, there weren't even many kids who wanted to come back to Hogwarts. Not yet, at least.

The moment the Ministry started talking about medals and the press started talking about exclusives, Harry had found a top-secret job advising the Aurors in the hunt for the remaining Death Eaters. Ron and Ginny needed the time to mourn as a family. Luna had kindly offered to stay and help clear the castle of nargles, but Hermione knew that the more Xenophilius was left alone with his guilt, the more manic the Quibbler got. And Viktor had promised she would be welcome anytime to see the wonders of Bulgaria, but the Bulgarian ministry had swiftly followed his letters up with an edict that the country simply had no space for refugees.

Nobody had told Hermione how lonely it got after a war.

At least rebuilding Hogwarts wasn't boring. And after searching through the stacks of books that they had been able to save from the library, she had been shocked to discover just how many times Hogwarts had gone to war and how many times the Ministry had decided that a couple more defensive would keep it safe forever as long as nobody mentioned Hogwarts going to war.

So when Hermione found a pile of potentially cursed stones, she took it more than seriously. If she was going to rebuild Hogwarts, oh, she was going to rebuild it. Education was the foundation of every civilised society, and the British wizarding one left a lot to be desired. A school was no place for wars. No place for any of the long lists of accidents and disappearances and injuries she kept digging up. No place for-- 

"Hermione?"

She jumped and spun her wand towards the footsteps behind her. "Damn it." Towards Neville. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Of all the students who had fought in Dumbledore's Army and survived, Neville seemed to have come out of it the most patient, and with a dedication to Hogwarts that had only grown exponentially. Hermione had once caught McGonagall muttering something about a future headmaster after he had almost single-handedly cleaned up the Quidditch pitch.

"Sorry." Hermione repeated herself as she stuffed her wand back into her pockets. "It's just... What's the matter?"

He grimaced sympathetically. "There's someone here to see you."

*****

Hermione braced herself before she entered the Great Hall. There hadn't been a steady stream of visitors, but when there was, it was almost all Ministry officials, journalists, and families whose kids were still missing.

But maybe this time (hopefully this time), it would be someone with good news. Merlin knows she could use it. She took a deep breath and marched in. Maybe this time it might even be Harry or-- 

"Miss Granger."

Of all the people Hermione might've expected, Narcissa Malfoy wasn't one. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Please." The war hadn't aged Malfoy well, and the few months after even worse. As tall and imperial as she tried to be, she looked as ready to crumble as Hogwarts. "We don't need to fight anymore." 

"Shouldn't you be visiting your Death Eater husband in Azkaban?" Maybe they didn't need to fight, but the Malfoys had chosen their side in the war. And they didn't seem ready to give it up. "Or burying the demented remains of your Death Eater sister?"

"Don't talk about my sister like that." Malfoy's tone still managed to be cold. "Or my husband."

"Am I wrong?" Every morning Hermione read the latest stories of amnesty proposals and ministry officials saying everyone just need to put the past behind them and move on, but Hermione didn't think she was ready for that. "Because I distinctly being tortured in your house."

"Bellatrix was--"

"A lunatic fascist who enjoyed murdering in cold blood?" If anything, this was exactly the time when everything needed to change. To make sure none of it ever happened again. "Who got herself killed, killed your niece, almost got your son killed?"

"Miss Granger." Malfoy's voice wavered for a second. "Please. My family's been through too much already."

"I had to obliviate my family to stop yours from murdering them."

"We..." Malfoy shut her eyes. Refused to meet Hermione's. "She was my sister."

"Andromeda was your sister too. That didn't stop you from abandoning her."

Malfoy opened her mouth once before shutting it. Before sighing forlornly. "A lot of mistakes have been made."

"Those weren't mistakes." Deliberate wouldn't even begin to describe the evil, sadistic intent behind Voldemort and the people who chose to follow him.

Malfoy said nothing.

"I don't want to hear your apologies." Hermione didn't have much else to say either.

"She mentioned you." Malfoy finally called out just after Hermione turned her back to march away. "In her will."

In her... Hermione stopped dead halfway through taking the second step. In her, in Bellatrix's... 

"I know the school speaks highly of you. Maybe she saw..." She pulled a small wooden box, locked tight, out of her robes and set it down on the table. "I don't know, but it's yours."

It took Hermione a few seconds to stop her brain from racing. "I don't want anything of hers."

"She was my sister. My family, no matter what. I hope you can understand that I have to do this for her." Malfoy left the box on the table, straightened out her robes, and marched right past Hermione.

And stopped.

And turned back one last time, looking so lost, so alone under the arch of the Great Hall that she almost, absurdly, seemed like a little girl. "Bella did have a heart once."

*****

The runes on the stones blurred and... No, it was Hermione's eyes that were blurring.

"Ugh." She groaned as she dropped the stones and flopped back. She had been stuck on the markings for a couple weeks now, and she was no closer to solving them. She was almost tempted to just throw them together and hope for the best.

Almost.

Her small chuckle at the thought that that was exactly what Ron and Harry would do faded quickly. They weren't here, and she didn't have the faintest idea of what to do, and... And Bellatrix's will kept slithering its way back into her thoughts.

The box Malfoy had left behind was small, enough to fit into the palm of her hand, and was made of solid, unmarked wood (walnut if Hermione was estimating correctly). It didn't rattle when she shook it or when she when had cast a few curse-revealing charms, and... 

And opening it would almost certainly be a terrible idea.

Almost certainly.

And Hermione didn't want anything to do with Lestrange of the Malfoys or any of them.

And...

And it was a puzzle. A mystery apparently designed just for her. As much as she wanted to bury it in the Forbidden Forest or toss into the Gryffindor fireplace, she kept bringing it along. It was almost like a part of her wanted to see what horrible curse Lestrange had prepared for her. Like a part of her wanted to tempt fate.

Like a part of her didn't want the war to be over. 

She still remembered breaking into Grignotts, making plans, disguising herself as Lestrange, escaping on a dragon. She remembered the adrenaline, the thrill of outwitting danger.

She remembered the fear. The pain. The mad howls of Lestrange's laughter. She remembered it every day, with every little shift of the shadows, with every second she closed her eyes, every time she cried in her pillow. A part of her knew that maybe the war would never really be over.

It made her want to scream. It made her want to confront it. She had beaten the Death Eaters once, she had beaten Lestrange once, she could do it again. Especially when Lestrange was dead and never coming back.

"Dammit, Merlin." She cursed under her breath as her curiosity got the better of her. She retrieved the box and set it down on the floor in front of her. She tried every detection charm, every counter-curse she could think of, but the box remained still.

So she pressed her thumb to the lock and flicked it open.

It... 

It was a bone.

"What in the name of..." It was just a bone, a fragment of a bone, human (wrist, maybe, if Hermione's vague knowledge of anatomy was anything to go by), tied down by what looked like dragon heartstring and surrounded by a circle of runes marked in something blacker than ink. Runes that weren't too dissimilar to the ones Hermione was having trouble with.

Hermione shuddered at the thought of where it might've come from. Knowing Lestrange, it wouldn't be anywhere good. Hermione shuddered again at the thought it might even have come from Lestrange herself, in some last mad attempt to laud her blood purity over Hermione. Or just one last attempt at madness.

But the runes seemed far too deliberate. And Hermione wasn't going to underestimate Lestrange. She immediately started casting more defensive charms, more counter-curses. She wasn't going to make a mistake that could-- 

The instant her wand grazed the bone, a deep chill ran through her, like the world was falling into ice, was being sucked away from her.

She barely had time to jerk out a breath.

Then the world went black.

*****

It was cold.

Hermione was cold.

Heavy.

She was... She slammed her eyes shut again the moment she opened them. It was far too bright outside.

But it didn't sound like she was outside.

She carefully forced her eyes back open to find a pile of blankets on top of her and a great stone ceiling above that. The smell of hot chocolate.

And the sound of urgent whispers.

She tried to turn herself in their direction. It was slow, but... The first thing she saw was a body. A person. With beautiful, wild dark hair and skin that was even paler and-- 

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Madam Pomfrey barreled towards Hermione, catching her halfway through pushing herself out of the infirmary bed. "You need to be resting."

Hermione could only struggle for a second before her energy wore out. "Who...?"

"I don't care what she's done, as long as she's in here, she's my patient." Madam Pomfrey gently (but firmly) pushed Hermione's pointing hand back down and held out a mug of hot chocolate for her. "And my patients deserve their privacy."

Hermione didn't see who Pomfrey shot a glare at. She tried to focus instead on taking a small sip of the chocolate. It smelled amazing and tasted even better, like it was everything she ever needed.

The sound of Madam Pomfrey swinging curtains shut around the other bed was shortly followed up by the footsteps stopping at the side of Hermione's. "Professor?"

"You gave us quite the scare, Hermione." McGonagall managed a warm smile as she slumped down into the chair next to the bed. "Please don't do it again."

"What happened?"

"I wish I had answers for you." McGonagall glanced back at the curtains. "It's far darker magic than I'd have ever thought possible."

Hermione couldn't calm the current of fear bubbling back up her throat as her eyes started to drift back to sleep. "Professor?"

"It would appear," McGonagall's voice tremebled. "That Bellatrix Lestrange is back."

*****

The sound of shouting only made Hermione pick up the pace up the stairs to the headmistress's office.

When she had finally woken up rested and warm enough to stretch her legs, the bed next to hers had been empty, and Madam Pomfrey looked none the happier about any of it. And what McGonagall had said... 

Hermione picked up the pace even faster, as if her legs could convince her ears that she had just dreamt the words.

There was no way Lestrange could've survived. No way at all. Hermione had seen Molly's spell her, she had seen her body hit the ground, had seen it lay there untouched after the battle, and... The bone fragment hadn't felt like a horcrux and Lestrange wouldn't have given Hermione (of all people) her horcrux and resurrection was definitely absolutely impossible.

It had to have been a dream. Even if it was somehow (and it wasn't) Lestrange, she'd have been sent right to rot in Azkaban, not given privacy in Hogwarts. The only logical conclusion was that it had been... 

Hermione's heart sank the second she reached the top of the stairs. Narcissa Malfoy was back at Hogwarts. And so was Andromeda Tonks. If the two sisters were both here, both together, both shouting at McGonagall...

"Excuse me?" Hermione coughed as politely as she could given the circumstances. "I was told you needed to talk to me?"

"Ah, yes. Please take a seat." McGonagall rose before either of the sisters could open their mouths. "It appears we have a situation on our hands."

"A situation?" Malfoy muttered to herself. "With such descriptive prowess, it's little wonder the quality of the education at the institution has declined so dramatically."

McGonagall pretended not to hear her. "As I believe I mentioned while you were still recovering, Bellatrix Lestrange--"

"No." Hermione almost jumped right back off the chair as she shook her head. As the scar down her arm tingled with needling pinpricks. "She's dead."

"Well..." McGonagall looked as if she was trying to find the words and failing. "Yes, but--"

"She can't be alive." She couldn't be. There was no way in either muggle or wizarding hells that she could be. "It's impossible."

"She was always too smart for her own good." Andromeda looked as if she was about to cry. "The brightest witch of her age," she added, far too softly for Hermione's liking.

"Indeed." McGonagall's grimace stretched thinner. "I shudder to think what she learning from Voldemort." Malfoy's eye twitched at the name. "Whatever curse she hid in that box, it almost sucked the life right out of you. It's dark magic that I can't say I've ever before. That anyone at Hogwarts has."

"Have you asked the Ministry?" It's what Hermione would do. If there were any other experts in Britain who'd be able to recognise it, they'd be there.

"That was my intention." McGonagall almost glared at the sisters. "And it is still a course of action that I believe--"

"She stays here." Andromeda's tone was hard. Uncompromising. "We're the closest thing she has to a guardian, and she stays here. No Azkaban. No Ministry. Here."

"She's a dangerous psychotic." Hermione couldn't believe that, of all people, Andromeda would defend her.

"She's still my sister."

Didn't she hear the bit about extremely dark and unknown curses? "She's a Death Eater! She's--" Hermione did jump at McGonagall's cough. "Professor?"

"As I was trying to say, the situation we find ourselves in..." McGonagall sighed, looking every year of her age and still not finding the words. "Is unprecedented. It appears her curse didn't quite work as intended."

The silence that hung in the air drove Hermione mad.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione pulled out her wand. Intended curses or not, she had enough experience with Death Eaters, enough experience with Lestrange, to know that one - that she - didn't belong in the castle. That the Ministry needed to intervene. "I'm calling--"

The blinding flash of light that exploded around her almost slammed her off her feet.

McGonagall's wand was pointed right at Andromeda, whose wand was pointed right at Hermione.

And McGonagall was furious. "You dare raise your wand against one of my students?"

And Andromeda had never looked more like her older sister. "Bella may have been the brightest witch of our generation, but I think you're forgetting that I was always the greater Slytherin. Professor."

Nobody dared move.

"Andy." Until Malfoy spoke a single, quiet word from her corner.

Finally, Andromeda dropped her wand. "She's my sister." Her hand grabbed Hermione instead. "I deserve the right to deal with it."

*****

Andromeda only let go of Hermione after she'd dragged her all the way to the lake. And the second she let go, she raised her wand again.

Hermione quickly drew hers before she realised Andromeda wasn't aiming at her, but at the trees. She hurled curse after curse at them, each more raging than the next, until she double over, panting to try and catch her breath.

"Fuck!" She shouted once at the water before slumping down into the grass. "Bella always says that it makes her feel better." Andromeda waved vaguely at the trees. "But it never makes me feel better. I think she's lying."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the abrupt change in tone. At the growing absurdity of the world she was stuck in. "Do you realise what she's done?"

"Yeah."

"She was evil. She tortured me. She killed Tonks! She killed your--"

"I know what she did to my child, and don't think that I can ever forgive that." Andromeda twirled her wand around to send a splash of water onto a branch that had started smoking alarmingly. "Which is why me and Narcissa have decided to ask for your help."

This time, Hermione didn't laugh.

"You're a brilliant young witch, if there's anyone she'll listen to, it'll be you. Probably. And maybe you can even--"

"She carved the mudblood slur into my arm."

Andromeda hesitated before continuing. "But--"

"But what?" There were some people that Hermione didn't think she could forgive. Some people that she knew she would never forget. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the Ministry right now and have her locked up in Azkaban for the rest of her life."

Andromeda stared out at the water. When she finally spoke, it came out so quietly it was almost lost inside her own head. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to get the chance to go back in time and fix things?"

Hermione had learned the hard way that time travel was something best left alone, but still, she let Andromeda continue.

"She wasn't just my sister, she was my best friend. I looked up to her. I loved her. And she still chose the pureblood bullshit that made her miserable over me. And she made Narcissa chose it too." A tear leaked down Andromeda's cheek. "I spent so long trying to convince myself that I could still fix it. That I could've done better. If I had told her about Ted earlier, or if I had told Cissy first, or if I had come up with a perfect plan to escape from our father, or if I had poisoned Rodolphus's pumpkin juice with that salamander gland I found, or... I spent so long."

Even dead, Lestrange was still hurting people, and Hermione was no closer to seeing that one reason.

Suddenly Andromeda chuckled. "I must sound like some crazy, selfish, old hag. Madness runs in my family, you know?" She wiped the tear off her cheek. "But if Bellatrix was able to figure something out, even if I can't get Dora back, if I can at least get my sisters back, wouldn't you take that chance?"

Hermione had obliviated her parents to protect them, and she would do it again if she had to. "That's not a good enough reason." Even if there was a chance, Hermione wasn't sure someone as far gone as Lestrange could be rehabilitated. "She would probably kill you first."

"Nah." Andromeda gave Hermione the saddest smile. "Not her. Whatever you did with that curse, it didn't bring back Bellatrix Lestrange. It brought back Bellatrix Black."

*****

If there was ever a time when Hermione wished she had taken Care of Magical Creatures for her O.W.Ls, it was as the stone guards stepped away from the door of the makeshift house arrest.

Against her better judgement (against all better judgement), she had decided to give Andromeda (and only Andromeda) that one chance. In a way, it even kinda made sense. If they could get such a potentially powerful witch on their side, if they could decipher that dark magic, hell, if there was a shot at building a successful deradicalisation programme...

Or maybe Hermione's brain was just working overtime trying to justify a decision that made no logical sense and only brought back flashes of maniacal laughter, of searing pain and cold, sharp metal.

But if anyone could face that and come out alive, it would be a Gryffindor, and Hermione was a Gryffindor.

So took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

A crude, wordless disarming charm hit her the moment she stepped in.

"My name is Bellatrix Black, and I demand answers. Who are you and where are my sisters?"

Hermione barely heard the door lock shut behind her. Her scarred arm couldn't stop trembling at the sight of her.

"Answer me."

It was uncanny. It shouldn't've been - they were the same person, after all - but Lestrange had never looked like someone who could've been 17 once. Who could've held Hermione's wand with purpose. Whose cheeks could've been fuller and muscles more defined. Who could've been... She couldn't be beautiful.

"I said, answer me!" Bellatrix screamed at Hermione in what was an oddly comforting sight. "The Most Noble House of Black will have you--"

Hermione took three steps forward and slammed her fist into Bellatrix's face. "My name is Hermione Granger." Picked her wand out of Bellatrix's hands and cast a quick binding spell. "I am a muggle-born, and I am the brightest witch of this generation."

It took a second before Bellatrix's shock turned into a sneer. "No mudblood could be the brightest witch."

Hermione just rolled up her sleeve.

The shock flashed back on Bellatrix's face at the sight of the scar, but only for an instant. "You dare lay your filthy hands--"

Bellatrix shut up the second Hermione raised her fist again.

"You don't know the trouble you're in." Bellatrix frowned as a droplet of blood trickling down from her nose hit her lips. "Any mudblood who spills noble--"

"Oh, shut up." Hermione forced her voice to come out calmly. "And you shouldn't use that word." It took everything she had to force her wand to magic away the blood. "We don't have to fight." And it took even more to say her name. "Bellatrix."

Bellatrix stared at her like she was a brainless newt. And then threw her head back and laughed wildly. "Mudblood has a sense of humour!" A few more chuckles came out before her sneer was able to find its way back. Before she spat at Hermione. "Your kind disgusts me. You're a blight on Wizarding Society, corrupting and defiling and--"

"You wanted to know where your sisters are?"

Bellatrix's eyes glanced around wildly, struggling against themselves, before settling into a deadly glare. "If you've done anything to them--"

"I haven't." Hermione tried to meet that glare head on with the most sincere, patient look she could manage. "I promise."

"Why should I believe you?"

Tried not to get lost in the sudden glimpse of something close to vulnerability deep down in Bellatrix's eyes. "Things have happened, Bellatrix. This isn't the 1960s anymore."

Bellatrix let out another, more uncertain, chuckle. "What?"

"This is the year 1998. There's been a war. You died."

Bellatrix stared at her. "You must be the dumbest mudblood I've ever met."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Bellatrix. I promise." The more Bellatrix's expression wavered, the easier it was for Hermione to pretend that she was a just a young, terrified, lost girl. "There was a curse. It brought you here." Hermione tried a smile that came out entirely like a grimace. "Welcome to the 90s."

Whatever Bellatrix was searching for on Hermione's face, she didn't find it. "No. You're lying."

Hermione closed her eyes just long enough to convince herself to take a risk. "Do you want me to prove it?"

*****

The more Bellatrix wandered through the castle, the quieter she got.

In so many ways, it was disconcerting. This younger, healthier version of Bellatrix had so much in common with the version that had tortured Hermione. The same type of manic energy, the same sneer, the same aura of always straddling the edge. But she also seemed... more alive. The darkness that was gathering behind her eyes was only just starting to gather and there was none of the hollowness in the emotions that roiled off her.

It didn't make her less petulantly arrogant or make the power lurking beneath her skin less dangerous, but it made her seem less fearsome. It made her seem more human.

Despite herself, Hermione was even beginning to think she could find her fascinating. Maybe even-- 

Bellatrix stopped suddenly in front of Hermione, breaking her silence with a look of horror at the ruins of the library courtyard below the window. "What have your kind done?"

Hermione kept her distance. "It was yours." If she wasn't sure how Bellatrix would handle behind dumped with a long 30 years worth of history, maybe it was better to keep the details as vague as possible. "The pureblood supremacists started a war they didn't think they could lose, and they were willing to destroy everything to make sure they didn't."

"That can't... My sisters." Bellatrix's voice changed tone very quickly. "Andy. Cissy. Tell me they're alive."

"They are."

"Are they safe?"

Hermione didn't think she could handle the raw desperation in Bellatrix's voice. Not from Bellatrix. "Yes."

Are they... Are they happy?"

Especially when she had promised not to lie. "No."

"Was I... Did I...?"

Hermione kept her promises. "But they think you could be. If you can finish your last year at Hogwarts, if you can grow into someone that will make them proud, maybe you could all be happy." When Bellatrix said nothing, Hermione pushed a little further. "They convinced me to give you a chance."

Bellatrix snorted. "Of course they did. They're too soft. They..." Her eyes rose up from he courtyard to stare at the cloudy sky. "Can I see them?"

"I don't know." If Hermione was going to be responsible for Bellatrix, if she was somehow going to end up being her sponsor (if such a thing existed in the Wizarding World), it was a responsibility she was going to take very, very seriously. "If you want this chance, it won't be a good idea for anyone else to know who you are."

"I must've done terrible things." Bellatrix came dangerously close to leaning out of the window. "What happens if I refuse?"

"Does it matter?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Turned away from the window and stepped so closely to Hermione that their hands brushed. That her lips brushed Hermione's ear. "I think you're wrong." Her voice was so low, so soft, that it made something inside Hermione break. "If I hurt my sisters, this wouldn't be the future. This would be hell."

Something inside Hermione did break.

She didn't have the chance to determine what before Bellatrix stepped past her. Before she realised her wand wasn't in her pockets any longer.

The charm that hit her back made her flip over in the most undignified way before crashing face first into the floor.

Hard.

It wasn't a dark spell, but it was hardly friendly.

"There's no way I would let a mudblood prance around calling herself the brightest witch of our generation." And it should've been physically impossible for her cackling laugh to irritate ever single nerve in Hermione's body like that. "Especially not one who lets her prisoners escape so easily."

Hermione swore as she spat the dust out of her mouth and pushed herself off the floor the chase after Bellatrix.

She had survived a war. She had survived torture and hopelessness and pain and grief. She had survived Death Eaters and Voldemort and she had survived Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione could survive one year of Bellatrix Black.

Whether Bellatrix could survive, however, was an entirely different question.


End file.
